


A Present Wrapped Tight

by Anonymous



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (kinda), (sort of), Bondage, Butt Plugs, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Frottage, Gags, Grinding, Kidnapping, M/M, Mummification, Non-Consensual Bondage, Stockholm Syndrome, Vibrators, Witches, encasement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 05:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15623517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Witches are territorial and innately selfish. They do not like to live with other witches, or often even to form intimate relationships with them. A witch will take a familiar or even a human as a partner long before they take another witch.Louis is just as territorial and selfish as any other witch. Taking a partner has never interested him in the past, with the exception of one night stands with humans met in dark clubs late into the night. Tonight, however, he feels something different. Something in him is tugging at his senses, telling him that this human before him needs to be his.Louis is a witch, and Harry is the human he claims.





	A Present Wrapped Tight

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those "not for everyone" works. If you think of any tags I need to add, let me know.

Witches are territorial and innately selfish. They do not like to live with other witches, or often even to form intimate relationships with them. A witch will take a familiar or even a human as a partner long before they take another witch. 

Louis is just as territorial and selfish as any other witch. Taking a partner has never interested him in the past, with the exception of one night stands with humans met in dark clubs late into the night. Tonight, however, he feels something different. Something in him is tugging at his senses, telling him that this human before him needs to be his. 

The human’s name is Harry. He’s tall, with a smile that makes Louis want to bite at his plush lips; to claim them as his own. He’s been on his own in the club since Louis walked in, sipping occasionally on something blue and fruity and dancing with anyone on the floor who welcomes him. Every time he makes his way to a new dance partner, Louis wants to pull him away, to punish him for being such a slut. He has already claimed Harry in his mind, even Harry hasn’t met him yet, and he will definitely suffer later for being so brash with strangers when his true partner is standing just on the other side of the dance floor. 

Making his way onto the floor, into the mesh of crowded, sweaty bodies, Louis knows he looks good. He may not be a runway model, but he’s better looking than almost anyone here tonight, the way his skinny jeans cling to his thighs and ass, and the way the thin material of his shirt gives nothing to the imagination in regards to his figure, his slim waist. Anyone in this club would be lucky to go home with him tonight. 

When he makes it to Harry, who seems lost in his own world as he grinds on a taller, musctly bloke, Louis wastes no time in separating them, putting his hands on Harry’s waist from behind and manhandling him away from the guy who was taking his affections. While Harry does crane his neck to see his new partner, he doesn’t object to the way Louis crowds into his personal space, working his hips so that his cock, grazes against Harry’s bum, the thin material of both their jeans the only thing separating them. 

Louis’s hands grip at Harry’s hips, anchoring them to one another as the music pounds and they grind together. Harry seems perfectly content to let Louis hold him there, and Louis revels in how right it feels. His instincts are never wrong; this is the man he has claimed.

By the time they are both sweaty and the music is fading into a new song, Harry is beginning to pull away, possibly to go back to the bar for his drink. That won’t do, of course. Louis lets go just long enough to unwind the strap of black leather from around his wrist and reach up before Harry’s gotten too far and thread it around his neck.

The second he’s done so, Harry stumbles a step, and then stops, the confusion likely clouding his mind just enough for Louis to take a moment to buckle the collar in place.

Louis’s worked hard on the spells woven into this collar, and while he doesn’t see the need for Harry to be controlled full-time, it’ll be useful to get him from point A to point B.

Louis firmly grasps the back of Harry’s neck with one hand, and leans up to his ear. “Walk,” he whispers, and while there’s no way for him to be heard in the middle of this noisy club, the command works all the same and Harry walks forward, albeit a bit unsteadily, led easily by the hand on the back of his neck. 

The man at the bar seems to notice nothing amiss as Louis pays Harry’s tab, and the Uber driver doesn’t bat an eye as Harry is completely silent the whole journey.

Louis doesn’t like complete control. It feels too sterile, too unnecessary. Harry has the sense about him enough to do up his own belt in the car, and when Louis lays a heavy hand on Harry’s thigh, higher than a strictly platonic touch, Harry gazes at it and then up at Louis’s face, looking almost confused but not unhappy.

Good. It would be clear on his face if he didn’t want this, Louis’s spell is loose enough to let those emotions slip through. Something in Harry clearly feels this is as right as Louis knows it is.

When the Uber drops them off at Louis’s house, an unattached at the edge of town, Louis waits for Harry to get out and come to him. He places his hand on the back of Harry’s neck again when he does, firm and in control, and feels Harry shiver. He likes the feeling. 

He leads Harry through the house into the empty spare room with only a dresser and bed and lots of floor space. It’s clean so that he can have an open area for his magic, but this will do nicely as well. Digging around in the dresser, filled mostly with herbs and natural ingredients, he pulls out the translucent veil he has stashed away, his spells already weaved into it.

“Stay,” Louis says, and like a dog for his owner Harry stands still, watching him with mild curiosity. Louis comes up to him and takes a moment to let his hands roam over Harry’s chest, even over his shirt the tattoos sprawled across it are visible, and the tender muscles solid under his arms. Then he reaches up and takes the headscarf from his curls, letting them fall free as he tosses it to to the bed.

He reaches his fingers under the hem of Harry’s shirt and lifts it. Harry obediently puts his arms up and Louis pulls the shirt entirely off, throwing it with the scarf and then leaning down to remove his boots and socks as well. The jeans give him a moment of difficulty from how tightly they cling to him, but soon Harry stands in nothing but a small pair of black boxer briefs, looking as calm as ever with himself on display.

Louis admires his form, the curves of his thighs and the bit of pudge at his hips. He feels almost giddy that all of this is his now, and his cock stirs in interest at the bulge in Harry’s pants. 

“Lay down,” Louis says, pointing to the carpet below Harry’s feet. Harry does so, on his back with his hands splayed out on the floor to either side of him.  _ Perfect. _

Louis takes the veil from the top of the dresser and lays it carefully over Harry’s feet, his legs, his thighs, his hips. He takes Harry’s hands and places them up against his thighs, like a barbie doll in a box, and lays the veil over them as well. It goes from the bottoms of his feet to just above his pants, looking almost like a baby blanket, and Louis gets to work tucking it in. He makes sure it wraps all the way around his feet, and where it touches itself it fuses together, and all the way around his legs, up his thighs, and lifts his bum so that it meets under that too, like a sleeping bag that only reaches to his hips.

Then he runs his hands  over it, feeling excitement building in his stomach as it tightens wherever his hands are, drawing taunt until the material clings to Harry’s form and shows his knees, his toes, the gaps between his fingers. Like he’s been packaged just for Louis to own.

He stands up to survey his work, gazing at Harry’s still and peaceful form as he lays half entombed in the material. Seeing it as good, he gets down on his knees and reaches under Harry’s neck and unclasps the collar, removing it from him entirely.

Harry blinks, and then blinks harder, a frown obscuring his delicate features. He moves a little as if to put a hand to his face, but manages to do nothing as they’re both pressed firmly against his thighs.

“Wha-” he slurs, his frown going deeper. “What’s happened?”

“I have claimed you,” says Louis, gazing down at him. Harry moves as if to sit up, but Louis pushes his chest and he goes back down easily. 

“My name is Louis,” says Louis. “And you are Harry, and you are mine.”

“I’m-” says Harry. “I’m not yours.”

“You are,” says Louis. “I am a witch, and you will be mine.”

“No,” says Harry. “I’m - I was at the club? Why can’t I move?”

“I’ve just secured you a bit,” says Louis, glancing down at the veil. It’s already begun inching up Harry’s body, ever so slowly, approaching his belly button. “I thought you might not agree with me right away, but don’t worry. You will.”

Harry attempts to move his hands again, and then kicks out a bit as he realises that he can’t. “This is- this is probably illegal, you really can’t- can’t do this?” he looks almost questioning, like maybe Louis  _ can _ do this. 

“I have done this,” says Louis. He smiles, feeling possessive. He slides a hand up Harry’s thigh, resting it over his briefs and feeling Harry respond to even that simple touch. “Don’t worry, I can take excellent care of you.”

“But-” says Harry, he’s almost writhing on the ground now, trying to pull his hands from the material even though they are stuck fast, more tightly held there than he can possibly comprehend. “But— i have to go home! I have work tomorrow and I have a paper due on Thursday, and-” he cuts off into a low groan as Louis cups him through the material of the veil and his pants. He’s so sensitive to Louis’s touch and Louis is living for it, considering dropping everything to rub up against him right now, combine their pleasure. 

But he doesn’t. Because he plans on drawing this out a while longer. 

“I have to go home,” Harry is rambling now, the veil is beginning to inch up past his wrists and plaster them to his side. “I can’t stay here, you can’t-”

“Quiet,” Louis says, putting his hand over Harry’s mouth and forcing his head back onto the ground. “You are mine now, so none of that matters.”

He knows Harry is going to protest again, can already hear him starting as he lifts his hand, so he stands up and walks back to the dresser, pulling it open and rifling through for the red ball he knows is in there.

He finds it wedged in the back and pulls it out. It fits in the palm of his hand, only two centimetres in diameter and a rubbery yet porous texture.

Walking back, he stands over Harry and sits down square on his chest to stop him trying to turn his body over from the way’s wriggling about. Harry lets out an  _ oof _ as he sits down, stopping him in whatever complaints he’s saying, and Louis pops his hand in Harry’s mouth, clicking his tongue to activate the little ball in his hand. 

It swells and Louis pulls his hand out, Harry’s protests growing feeble as he gags on the ball, an attempt to spit it out coming a second too late, and then muffled as it fills his mouth, expanding until his cheeks begin to chub, too big to be forced out any longer. The  _ mmph _ that comes from him is quiet, his eyes round as saucers as he realises he is well and truly silenced.

“Don’t worry,” says Louis, leaning down and nosing at Harry’s cheekbone, biting at his jawline. “You are mine now, Harry Styles, and I take care of what’s mine.”

Harry wriggles under him, feeble and helpless, as Louis sucks at the tender skin of his neck, leaving his marks clear for the world to see who he truly belongs to. Harry’s moans, quiet with his mouth stuffed full, go straight to Louis’ cock, and he shifts down to orient himself so that he can grind down in slow, tantalizing motions against Harry’s stomach, giving his cock the friction it needs while still leaving Harry to get more and more worked up. 

Harry’s breaths are laboured by the time Louis decides to switch to the other side of his neck, nipping at the sharp corner of his jaw and feeling the satisfying faint yelp from Harry that turns into yet another low moan as Louis mouths just behind his ear.

Harry continues to move underneath him, as helpless a feat as it may be, but it’s beginning to seem more like a begging, pleading ask for more rather than a means of trying to get free. The veil wrapped around him has continued to grow, inching further up Harry’s chest to where it is just below his nipples, completely trapping his arms against his sides now, unbelievably strong but thin enough for Louis to admire the expanse of his flesh. He squirms inside of it, vulnerable and exposed, and Louis imagines keeping him like this forever, a wriggling worm that can only bend to Louis’s every whim. Sensitive and needy with only Louis to turn to for relief.

Soon enough he will learn anyway. Witches choose their partners for life, and nothing will drag him away from Louis now. 

Louis slows his movements, the grind of his clothed cock against Harry’s stomach slowing to a stop, and sits up, admiring the blooming colours that he’s added to Harry’s neck. Soon enough, the veil will reach to his collarbones, and Louis thinks he should stop it growing around that part. He doesn’t want Harry’s face covered. He wants to gaze at those wide green eyes and chestnut curls, growing sweatier by the minute, for the rest of the night.

Harry whimpers, wiggling under Louis and looking with concern that he’s stopped his movements.

“You’ve been a good boy,” Louis says, although Harry has had little choice. “And I think you deserve a reward, yeah?”

Harry moans, and Louis watches spit leak from his stretched lips. He thinks about those lips glistening and wrapped around his cock and considers just staying here and finishing what he started, but no. There will be time for that. 

He stands, taking the chance to unbutton his jeans and give his cock some breathing room. He doesn’t got to the dresser this time, but instead leaves the room (against Harry’s quiet protests) and heads to his own, opening the drawer to the table next to his bed and grabbing the necessary instruments from there.

Walking back into the spare room, Louis stops for a moment  as Harry squirms about, his body refusing to accept that there is no chance of escape. With his free hand Louis reaches down and palms himself through his boxers, watching how Harry shifts his hips and bucks about, the bulge in his pants looking neglected and needy.

Louis gets down on his knees, looming over Harry as he puts the toys in his hand down and uses both hands to roll Harry onto his stomach. Harry whines in protest, but is helpless to stop it. The muscles on his back seem to ripple under Louis’ touch, his shoulder blades strong and sharp and his bum small but thick, as Louis grasps one cheek firmly in his hand. Harry yelps, but his face is turned away from Louis, and the sound doesn’t travel far.

“You’ll love this,” Louis says, “Don’t worry.”

He leaves his hand on Harry’s bum for a moment, muttering a simple spell under his breath until the material under his fingers falls away, delicate as a spider web. He makes the hole a bit bigger until Harry’s pants-clad arse is exposed to the open air, and then pulls his pants down, fingering his crack as he does so. 

Harry’s complaints are constant now, his thighs have begun quivering, but Louis shushes him as he finds his hole and gently probes until it lets him in. After a few minutes of preparation Louis takes one of the toys, a small blush pink plug, and pushes it past Harry’s tender entrance until it sits inside of him. Louis draws his pants back up and then turns him back over, the whimpers growing louder as Harry’s bum hits the ground and the plug undoubtedly shifts inside of him.

“I knew the right person would come around soon,” Louis says, locking gazes with Harry as he seems to be trying to keep his bum from the floor. “That’s just one, of course. I’ve got another one right here that I think you deserve as well.”

Muttering the same spell as before, Louis tears the veil from Harry’s crotch, even as it begins to repair itself over his bum. He pulls Harry’s cock from where it’s been confined inside his pants, and  _ yes _ he is just as big as he looked. Louis will love the feeling of taking that length inside of him at some point soon. 

He tucks the tip of Harry’s hard, leaking cock underneath the edge of the veil and holds it there until the veil begins to grow back over it, holding it in place. He takes the other present, the matching tiny blush pink egg vibrator, and tucks it right under the veil as well, just up against the underside of the head cock, waiting until it is secured as well, before sitting back and waiting for the veil to repair itself, leaving Harry permanently in this predicament. 

He looks up and sees that Harry has been watching and has surely cottoned on. His eyes are wide, but pupils blown, and he’s grown rather quiet. Louis straddles his stomach once again, and leans down to kiss around his stretched lips. “Such a good boy for me,” he says, reaching out and grabbing the last piece of the puzzle and hitting the on-switch.

The vibrator and the plug both spring to life, and with them Harry’s body jolts, a moan louder than Louis has heard so far escaping from his lips as he throws his head back and his eyes close in shock. Louis’s neglected cock twitches in his boxers but he denies it for a few more moments as he goes to suck another claiming bruise just under Harry’s chin.

He’s stopped the veil at the base of Harry’s neck, just past his collar bones, but the rest of him is so tightly held that Louis spends a few minutes poring over Harry’s quivering form with his fingers, taking in every muscle and tattoo entombed there just for him. He shimmies his way down Harry’s body until finally,  _ finally _ his own cock is level with harry’s and then he leans himself down and gives his poor cock the attention it needs, lining it up with Harry’s trapped, leaking cock and the vibrator attached to it.

Even with the low setting he’s put the toys on, Louis is pretty sure neither of them will last long. He grinds down onto Harry’s cock, rolling his hips the way he had with Harry back at the club, each movement bringing them both closer to release. Harry’s body is shaking, his attempts to buck up and meet Louis’s cock so feeble, but so needly. His curls are a sweaty mess and there’s a stream of spit leaking past his lips uncontainable because of the oversized gag stuffing him full. 

Louis can’t wait to take him apart like this again and again.

It’s only a handful more times grinding down on Harry’s cock until he’s moaning low and deep, splattering come under the veil he’s contained so tightly in. Louis follows him, just seeing Harry’s blissed expression enough to push him over the edge, and they ride out their aftershocks together, humping one another in stuttering movements and laboured breaths. 

When the vibrations begin to turn painful for the both of them, Louis shuts them off, although he doesn’t get up from where he’s laid himself across Harry. He raises his head enough to see Harry’s blissed out, far away expression and lowers it again, feels the slowing heartbeat in Harry’s chest against his ear. They lay there for what feels like quite a long while until Harry whimpers again, his mouth still stuffed full.

“I will put the collar back on you tomorrow,” says Louis, “and then I will take that out of your mouth. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”

Harry whimpers again, more plaintive this time, and begins to wriggle a little under Louis’s weight. Louis doesn’t like to feel like he’s not being listened to, especially after such a good mutual orgasm, so he reaches blindly out until he finds the remote and presses one of the smaller buttons on it, smirking when he feels Harry jump from the plug sprung to life inside of him.

“This will teach you to question me,” he says, putting the vibrator back down and cuddling back into Harry’s chest. Harry moans brokenly, shifting as the plug relentlessly sends tremours through him. Louis figures the batteries will die in a few hours, and that will have taught enough of a lesson. He’ll be well asleep by then, though. 

“You’re mine, and you will always be mine,” he says before drifting off, content and happy at his new acquisition.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629091)  
> Part 3 [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17401295/)


End file.
